Clueless with Cows
by Camaro-Enthusiast
Summary: It is 2018. Sonny is in Wisconsin, taking care of her little sister all by herself. What happens when a mysterious stranger shows up, and reveals himself to be Chad Dylan Cooper? Why is he hiding out in Wisconsin? Will the two ever get together? Review.
1. Chapter 1

This story is based on the book "Clueless Cowboy" by Mary Connealy.

The year is 2018. Sonny is 24 years old.

'So Random' ended in 2016, and Sonny stayed in LA/Hollywood for a year. A month later, her mom died, leaving Sonny and her little sister, Stephie, as orphans. Stephie is now 8 years old. Sonny is working on her family's farm in Wisconsin, trying to support her little sister, and keep her close to her cousins. Sonny didn't want to take Stephie away form everyone she knew, so Sonny left the acting business, and took over her parents' farm.

I do not own Sonny With a Chance, nor do I own 'Clueless Cowboy', or the basic plot of this story.

* * *

All Sonny Munroe wanted was to have a nice, relaxing walk in the woods. She didn't plan to be chasing a crazy man off her property.

She grabs a large stick from the ground, heading toward the Paul-Bunyan-wanna-be who was cutting down a tree. He was hacking away at an Elm. _An American Elm!_ His shirt was soaked with sweat, and his muscles rippled underneath his white tee-shirt.

Without saying a word, Sonny launched herself at the man, grabbing his ax and pulling backward. The man stiffened, watching as the ax flew backwards, far behing the two. He turned quickly knocking Sonny over, and falling down himself.

He yelled in surprise, although Sonny would later think of it as a roar. He landed right on top of her, knocking the breath from her lungs.

"Get off!" she exclaimed, pushing her hands against his chest. Sonny grimaced as she realized that his sweat was on her fingers, and as he stood, her hands wrapped up around his neck.

He glared at her, bright blue eyes flaming as he rolled off of her. "Who are you, and why are you on my property?"

"Your property?" Sonny questions, slightly dazed by his good looks and how good he smelled.

"Yes," he snaps.

"Who do you think you are, anyways? Cutting down that beautiful Elm!" she puts a hand on her hip.

"How did you find me? Did someone, ugh, did Sid send you? Or was it Tish?" he asks, glowering down at her.

"No. I live over the hill, only about a hundred yards," Sonny answers pertly.

"Impossible. No one lives around her in a ten mile radius, the realtor said so," he picks up the ax. "I should've expected Sid would send you. And of course, he sent a woman, and why don't I learn?"

"Okay, listen hotshot," she narrows her eyes, "I don't know who you are, but I do live over there. My name's Allison Munroe. My friends call me Sonny."

"Sonny?" he stares at her.

"You don't count as one of my friends."

"How did you find me here? Sid did send you, didn't he? The only thing I can't figure out is how you tracked me here," he runs a hand over his face. "I thought I was careful."

Sonny stares at him. Why was she here, with this stranger? At least he didn't seem dangerous… there was no state penitentiary jumpsuit, or anything…

"Listen up, hotshot," she puts her hands on her hips, "you are the one who doesn't belong here. Who are you, and do you even own this place? And why in the world are you chopping down an American Elm?

"I don't have to answer to you about that dumb tree," he roars. "I own this land now, and I can live however I want. Look, lady—"

"My name is…"

"Sonny Munroe, I heard. Nice to see you again."

"I don't know you, hotshot."

"Really, Sonny, really?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Chad?" Sonny gasps.

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

This story is based on the book "Clueless Cowboy" by Mary Connealy.

Setting/Timeframe:

The year is 2018. Sonny is 24 years old.

'So Random' ended in 2016, and Sonny stayed in LA/Hollywood for a year. A month later, her mom died, leaving Sonny and her little sister, Stephie, as orphans. Stephie is now 8 years old. Sonny is working on her family's farm in Wisconsin, trying to support her little sister, and keep her close to her cousins. Sonny didn't want to take Stephie away form everyone she knew, so Sonny left the acting business, and took over her parents' farm.

I do not own Sonny With a Chance, nor do I own 'Clueless Cowboy', or the basic plot of this story.

* * *

"What was that about the tree?" Chad asks, hefting the ax onto his shoulder.

"Chad, you can't just change the subject like that. What are you doing in Wisconsin?" Sonny asks.

"I just wanted a nice, quiet, out-of-the-way place to live. You mentioned it… when we were filming at Condor Studios," he shrugs. "Didn't know I was so close to anybody though."

"I got that," Sonny rolls her eyes.

"Yeah," he smiles sheepishly. "Anyways, what's so important about the tree?"

"It's an Elm."

"Oh," he looks at his feet.

"Chad, you can't just cut it down."

"It makes good firewood. There are hundreds of acres of trees," he argues.

"Are you crazy?!?!" Sonny steps closer to him once again.

"Um. I gotta go. You don't happen to have a straight-jacket, do you? I could lock you in a broom closet," he mutters.

"Chad, you are not going to lock me up."

"Look, lady," he says, just to rile her up.

"Don't call me lady!"

He clenches his jaw. "I won't call you a lady. I don't even think you are one. First, you roll around on the ground with me, and you didn't even know who I was. I would've been a stranger for all you knew, Sonny."

"Sounds like somebody cares," she teases.

"Pshaw," he waves his hand. "You're just denying that I'm right. You never could get enough of me."

"I'm going to try and say one calm, coherent sentence," she seethes. "Cuz, I'm a calm and rational person. I don't normally meet someone, especially an old friend, err… acquaintance, and start yelling and arguing with them. So let me say one sentence…"

"Just say it."

"What?" Sonny glares at him.

"This amazing sentence you're promising. You've already had three, and you haven't said anything yet," he smirks.

"Alright, Mr. Hotshot—"

"Chad Dylan Cooper, Sonny. No nicknames."

"Fine. Have you ever heard of Dutch Elm Disease?"

"That's what you were going to say," he wrinkles his nose. "You get one sentence, and that's it?"

"Let me finish," Sonny snarls, then puts on a polite (and fake) smile.

"At least you're learning who's boss," he smirks, then his mouth twitches as if wanting to turn into a full-blown, real smile. "By the way, drop the 'hotshot' while you're pretending to be nice. Finish your sentence."

"Answer my question."

"There was a question?" he runs his hands through his golden hair, which was looking decidedly messed up, especially more than she remembered it.

"Dutch elm disease. Have you heard of it?" Sonny repeats angrily.

"Yeah," he starts off, sounding confident, but continuing with an unsure tone of voice, "I've heard of it. Sort of."

"I should've known better than to ask a city boy. Dutch elm disease has killed nearly every American elm tree in the country. This tree was planted in the 1860s. These trees started dying. This is one of the only ones left."

Sonny shakes her head. "My mom, and dad, and grandparents, all talked about the trees standing dead, their branches naked. For some reason, this one survived. It deserves better than to be hacked down by some Paul Bunyan wannabe, for firewood."

"Sonny," Chad moans, "look around you. There are tons of trees. I'm not going to burn it. I'm cutting it down because I'm planning to landscape _my_ yard, and it's in my way."

"You'd destroy a majestic old tree, because it's in your way?" she huffs. "Well, I say _it_ was here first and you're in its way. How d'ya like that? And, landscaping?!?! This house is falling down around you. You were stupid enough to buy this place, but you have to realize that _landscaping _isn't even in the five year plan!"

"Look again."

Sonny turned slowly to look at the house. The roof was re-shingled; the broken windows had been repaired. Chad had obviously spent a lot of time, and money, on it.

"When did you do all this?" Sonny asks, breathless.

"I spent the last two weeks, working eighteen hour days. How come you didn't show up before now?" he spears her with a glance.

"Two weeks? I've been working the field; it's spring."

"Doing what?" he gives her a quizzical look.

"Ranching."

"You're a rancher? You left Hollywood…to ranch? Oh, let me guess," he says sarcastically. "You married your cousin when you were twelve. You've got eight kids."

"My cousin?" Sonny laughs, long and hard. She hadn't laughed like that since So Random had been canceled. "Eight kids?" She started laughing again, gasping for breath, collapsing onto the ground.

Chad gave her a look, and then chuckled. It sounded rusty… like it'd been a long time since he had.

"No cousin/husband then? No kids?" he teases, sounding almost neighborly.

"No husband, cousin or otherwise," she mutters. "I do have a kid… sort of."

She never knew his smile could disappear that fast.

"How can you have a kid 'sort of?'" he sneers.

"My sister lives with me. Chad, my mom died. There was no one to take care of her, no one but me."

"Sonny, I'm sorry," he mutters.

"I thought Chad Dylan Cooper never apologized," Sonny snaps. "I left Hollywood, to come and get her. My aunt has four other kids, and no room for Stephie."

"Is that her name?"

"Yeah," Sonny smiles lovingly at the mention of her little sister. "She's eight. Stephie's at school right now." She looks up at the sky. The sun was getting lower, and she'd have to go pick up Stephie from school. "I have to be going. School's going to be out soon. Didn't count on having to save this tree."

"You can tell time from looking at the sun?"

"Greenhorn," she rolls her eyes, looking at the palm-sized chunk he had hacked out of the elm. "Before I go, we've got to talk about the tree. Your life isn't worth a plugged nickel if you swing that ax again."

He gives her an amused glance.

"I'm serious Chad, I'll do you in. And, if you're the loner you seem to be now, no one'll ever miss you."

"I'm not a loner," he protests.

"Secrecy about buying this. No local purchase. You're a regular hermit, Chad Dylan Cooper."

"Where'd you hear all that?" All trace of humor is vanquished from his face.

"It's not what I heard… it's what I haven't heard. You're a stranger in this town. If you'd done anything in Cold Creek, someone would've noticed. I know you, Chad, so I assume you're not hiding from the law. I'd wager that you're on a back to nature kick, or you're trying to escape your life. Hollywood get a little too crowded for you, Chad?"

"Stop acting like you know me. You don't. Not anymore," he clenches his jaw.

"Now about the tree," Sonny grins.

"The tree or my life, huh?"

"Those are your choices, hotshot."

He shook his head. "You know, that's the nicest offer I've had from a woman in a long time. Probably since you left So Random…"

"You think it's nice that I threatened to kill you?" Sonny questioned. _He was crazy._

"No. I've just had some really nasty offers."

* * *

**Review please.**


	3. Chapter 3

This story is based on the book "Clueless Cowboy" by Mary Connealy.

Setting/Timeframe:

The year is 2018. Sonny is 24 years old.

'So Random' ended in 2016, and Sonny stayed in LA/Hollywood for a year. A month later, her mom died, leaving Sonny and her little sister, Stephie, as orphans. Stephie is now 8 years old. Sonny is working on her family's farm in Wisconsin, trying to support her little sister, and keep her close to her cousins. Sonny didn't want to take Stephie away form everyone she knew, so Sonny left the acting business, and took over her parents' farm.

I do not own Sonny With a Chance, nor do I own 'Clueless Cowboy', or the basic plot of this story. Nor do I own 'Spam.'

* * *

**IMPORTANT A/N:**

**To make up for my lack of updating, here is an extra long chapter. Enjoy!**

**Also, this _is_ a Christian story. If this use of religion in a fic offends you, don't read. Please, don't flame just because you disagree with this religion. It is an important part of the book by Mary Connealy, and I believe it adds to the story. Again, if you don't like it, don't read it! **

**The religious aspect of this story is not meant to offend anyone. Also, this A/N isn't meant to offend anyone who loves God and believes in Him. I decided that it would be important to preface this chapter with this A/N to make the readers aware of the Christianity facets of this fic. **

**Please, enjoy this fic, regardless of your religious beliefs or lack thereof. **

**Thank you to all my reviewers who have been waiting patiently for the next chapter. I apologize for taking so long!**

* * *

"So, the tree?" Sonny asks.

"The tree lives," Chad answers, sounding resigned. He stuck out his hand for a handshake.

"Is a handshake from a city boy playing lumberjack worth anything?"

His lips quirked into a smile.

She took his hand, and looked away, ignoring the feeling of his strong fingers around hers. "I gotta go. Stephie'll be waiting."

He didn't let go. "Can you really tell time from the sun?"

Sonny snorted. "Straight up is noon. Dawn is at six, sunset at eight… about… today. Add two minutes a day on each end till the first day of summer; then start subtracting after that. And, don't forget daylight savings time." She was winging it. She'd checked the clock in her truck before her walk. Sure, from the sun moving, she could tell that time was passing, but still… _Tell time?_ Sonny snorted to herself and started walking away. She had crossed the yard before he caught up to her.

"Hey," he grabs her arms. "I agreed to spare the tree, but there's more. I want you to promise me some things."

"Let's hear it," Sonny says flippantly.

"First, I want to see where you live. If there's no house there, and you've been lying to me, Sonny, I'll stop being so nice."

"You mean you can be less nice than this?" she raises an eyebrow. "What are you doing here anyways? Talk hotshot. You asked for promises, let's hear them."

He stopped short, whirling around. It was so sudden that Sonny slammed into his chest. She looked into the eyes that she had always loved as a teen. Right now, they weren't sparkly (not even one of them was!), they were just annoyed.

"I thought we agreed you'd quit calling me that."

"No," Sonny smiles. "Think back. We agreed that you wouldn't chop down the tree. We never talked about _hotshot._"

"Keep it up, sweetheart, I could stand here and argue all day, and no one will be there to get your sister."

"No more hotshot?" Sonny pouts.

"No more."

"It really suits you."

He glares, reaching a jabbing finger toward her.

"I'll stick with Chad."

"Good girl. Maybe you are trainable. I'd been thinking about getting a collie, but you might do just as well," he smirks.

"Oh shut up, Chad. You know, ranching is a cold business. We bring calves into the world, pet them, feed them, love them, and… then we eat them."

He rolls his eyes, walking in the direction she'd said her house was. "I can't believe," he stops, looking at the house. "I thought there weren't any houses for ten miles. Dam—" Sonny coughs. "Darn realtor."

"Thank you," she sniffs. "Besides, the realtor's right technically. I do live ten miles from you."

"Yeah sure. We just walked ten miles, Sonny," he says sarcastically.

"Chad, the road that leads to your driveway is a dead end. You can walk to my place in two minutes, but by road, it's over ten miles."

"Ah," he says. "I don't want you to tell anyone I'm here."

"You are hiding from the authorities," Sonny gasps dramatically.

"Stop watching so much TV; besides, I'm not hiding from anything. I just want to be alone." He glares at her. "Is it the cousin thing? Are you deaf? Do I have to say it again? Gosh, Sonny. I just want to be alone with no one to bother me!"

"Should I ask why?"

"No."

"Even if I'm dying of curiosity?"

"Would you actually?" he asks, his eye sparkling mischievously.

"No," she shakes her head.

"Darn," he snaps his fingers. Should've known you look healthy as a dog," he gives her an appraising glance, his eyes going up and down her body.

"Get your hayseed expressions right, Chad. It's healthy as a horse," Sonny grins.

"No. It's 'eat like a horse.' Or is it pig? Eat like a pig? That sounds familiar," he rubs one hand over his stomach.

"They both eat a lot. So do dogs," Sonny smiles half-heartedly, trying to be nice.

"While we're on the subject of food," he says, "I don't suppose you have any."

Sonny's heart turned over. "You don't have any food."

"I've got food," he barked at her. "I was just kidding."

_He wasn't kidding._ Sonny could tell. "Come for supper. Do I have to keep you a secret from Stephie too?"

His face darkens, as if a storm had come over the Munroe property. "I know how women keep secrets. They tell each other, swearing them to secrecy. Pretty soon, everyone knows!"

"Wow!" Sonny exclaimed. "How'd you find that out? It's true, of course, but I thought only other women knew it." She smiles sarcastically. "Some woman didn't keep the secret."

"Asking you not to tell is a joke, isn't it?"

"Chad, I won't tell anyone. Not even Stephie. She'll find you; she goes out in the woods all the time."

"You let your little sister run wild in the woods? How reckless is that?" he laughs.

"I did it when I was a kid. My dad did it before me," Sonny shrugs. "Until now, there's never been anything more dangerous here than a bumblebee."

"What do you mean, until now?"

"You're here."

"I'm not dangerous!" he guffaws. "Just tell her to stay on her own property."

"Great. How am I supposed to explain that, without telling her about you?"

"See if you can't find the light switch for some of those unused rooms in your brain and figure it our. I bought tem miles of privacy." He looked skyward and jabbed his finger at the passing clouds. "That was the deal."

"You pray more strangely than anyone I've ever met."

"What difference does it make? He doesn't listen."

"Sure, He does. Is that what you're out here for? To find God?"

"How about your sister?"

Sonny gave up on evangelism. For now. "I've got to go, charming though this has been. I'll bring some food over later."

"Why would you feed me?"

She could see he couldn't comprehend her offer. "I always feed the new neighbors, and anyone within twenty-five miles counts. If you'd introduce yourself around, women would feed you." She could almost see the hair stand up on the back of his neck. "Nice, happily married women. People around here would be real good to you. Give them a chance. It might sweeten your disposition."

"What's wrong with my disposition?"

Sonny couldn't help laughing. She turned away first for a change—that felt good.

"Why would you feed me?" he yelled after her.

Maybe no one had ever given him something with no strings attached. That idea made her want to be kind to him so badly she had to sass him to cover it up. "My intentions are honorable, hotshot. I'm fattening you up. You're way too skinny to interest any self-respecting carnivore."

She jumped back in her old Chevy, slamming the door. She looked back. Their eyes met and she couldn't look away.

With a little smirk, he touched one finger to his forehead and turned home.

* * *

Sid Coltrain's search turned to destruction.

Chad had disappeared. He was running around loose. And if Chad started adding things up, Sid was in trouble. The company they started, Cooper and Coltrain, made a fortune. With Chad's fame, they could hire all the engineers they needed. Chad just played the part of their man in charge; Sid managed the money. Sid did his best to keep Chad too busy to get a close look at the books. He slammed both fists onto the desktop, and then shoved the heavy piece of furniture. This remote log cabin was stark. The few heavy pieces of furniture in the three-room cabin were as rustic as the building and heavy with dust—and a few footprints no doubt left by Chad.

Sid had finally tracked Chad here to Colorado. But, Chad was long gone. Sid noticed the crumpled slip of paper under the desk. Smoothing it, he read _Cold Creek__, Wisconsin,_ in Chad's bold, slashing handwriting. "Impossible," Sid muttered. "Chad hasn't stepped off a plane in the Midwest since the Tulsa tornado."

His voice in the empty mountain cabin mocked him, reminding him that he had no other leads. He pulled out his cell phone and punched 411. He hated talking to a computer, so he'd learned how to bypass them. "Cold Creek, Wisconsin," he snapped at the operator. "I don't know the area code, look it up."

Sid seethed as he waited. "Operator, I'd like the number of… Chad Dylan Cooper."

No listing.

"Try C. Dylan Cooper."

Nothing.

"Is there a Chamber of Commerce number in Cold Creek? Tourist information center?" Sid rapped his knuckles on the beveled corner of Chad's oak desk.

"A city office, a mayor's office? Well, what is there then?" Sid's only answer was a sharp click as the operator broke the connection. He snapped the phone shut. Chad wasn't in Los Angeles. Sid had people checking everywhere and this lodge in Aspen was the closest he'd come.

He looked again at the three words Chad had left behind. Everyone knew everyone in these small towns. Sid decided to put Trish on it. This whole mess was her fault. Chad would have never quit working if Trish hadn't messed up.

Sid knew he'd pushed his luck sending Chad to Honduras. He hadn't been home a week from the earthquake mess in Bolivia. But, even an exhausted, burned-out faux engineer would have recognized the touchy financial situation at the office. Sid intended to put the money back soon, but for right now, he had some personal losses to cover. Sid couldn't let Chad hang around.

Whatever Trish had done sent Chad over the edge. No one had seen him for two months. Sid clenched his fist on the slender clue in his hand. Trish needed her boyfriend as much as Cooper and Coltrain needed its lead income-getter. Chad was everyone's golden parachute.

Trish could take charge of this slender lead. He had to find Chad before Cooper and Coltrain collapsed around his ears.

Sid looked again at the note he'd found. Wisconsin? Not in a million years! Chad employed a French chef and a chauffeur. Wherever Chad was, he lazed around in the lap of luxury.

* * *

He was pretty much living on Spam.

Chad knew how to rough it. That's pretty much all he did when he was on the job. But he was too burned out and even depressed to even arrange the basics for himself. He'd driven into Cold Creek, seen what he was up against, and had driven back to Rapid City, bought a trailer, filled it with building materials and canned goods, and come back to the ranch.

He'd gotten so sick of cold, canned meat he had to be starving before he could swallow it. He was close.

Soaked with sweat, filthy, every muscle in his body aching, Chad climbed down the ladder. He hadn't eaten since Spam at lunch. Under the grizzly stubble (who'd believe it, he the CDC had stubble. Not only that, it was grizzly! The horror.), his cheeks were sunken from the weight he'd lost.

He collapsed on the ground and leaned against the elm tree that had upset his neighbor so much. Truth was, it was a relief to let it live. Chopping down this huge tree was more work that he'd bargained for. He'd known after a couple of whacks he was going to forget the whole thing. Who would have thought that living in the woods of Wisconsin was so hard?

* * *

**Review please.**


	4. Chapter 4

This story is based on the book "Clueless Cowboy" by Mary Connealy.

Setting/Timeframe:

The year is 2018. Sonny is 24 years old.

'So Random' ended in 2016, and Sonny stayed in LA/Hollywood for a year. A month later, her mom died, leaving Sonny and her little sister, Stephie, as orphans. Stephie is now 8 years old. Sonny is working on her family's farm in Wisconsin, trying to support her little sister, and keep her close to her cousins. Sonny didn't want to take Stephie away form everyone she knew, so Sonny left the acting business, and took over her parents' farm.

I do not own Sonny With a Chance, nor do I own 'Clueless Cowboy', or the basic plot of this story.

* * *

**This _is_ a Christian story. If this use of religion in a fic offends you, don't read. Please, don't flame just because you disagree with this religion. It is an important part of the book by Mary Connealy, and I believe it adds to the story. Again, if you don't like it, don't read it! **

**The religious aspect of this story is not meant to offend anyone. Also, this A/N isn't meant to offend anyone who loves God and believes in Him. I decided that it would be important to preface this chapter with this A/N to make the readers aware of the Christianity facets of this fic. **

**Please, enjoy this fic, regardless of your religious beliefs or lack thereof. **

* * *

**THANKS TO ALL MY REVIEWERS! **

**I'm keeping the A/N from the last chapter above this, just in case. Enjoy the story!**

* * *

He thought about prickly, stick-toting Sonny Munroe and grinned. She'd changed, a lot. Her hair—Chad closed his eyes and thought about that luscious, endless hair—her hair was like the forest, burnished oak, glowing walnut and reddish chestnut glinting in the sun. And the brown of her eyes was as pure and honest as… he didn't know what. They still looked like chocolate, and that was good enough for him. And that cowgirl drawl eased into his bones.

None of that got to him like her sass, her courage, the warmth when she smiled, and the contagious way she laughed. She'd bring food. He instinctively knew she would.

Then, he remembered Trish.

His instincts were garbage.

* * *

Should she impress Chad with supper or slingshot him a pack of frozen hot dogs?

Sonny weighed her options as she followed the winding gravel road on the six-mile drive from the lush valley Sonny lived in to the clearing her neighbors owned. Beyond this rich, loamy, wooded area, the land spread out into the vast Wisconsin prairie grass, perfect for grazing cattle. The way was so familiar, she could daydream full-time.

She pulled into the Murray's drive. Stephie, swinging in their backyard, spotted her and jumped off the swing on its forward arch. Yelling, Stephie dashed toward Sonny's pickup. Lila, the youngest of the Murray's three kids, flew off the swing and ran over too.

Helen poked her head out the door. "Come in for coffee."

"I can't, Helen. I'm way behind today."

Dependable Helen—twenty years older than Sonny but still a good friend—began striding toward the truck. Helen was firmly settled into the salt-and-pepper gray hair stage.

Sonny remembered Chad's desire to be a secret, to avoid women, and she bit back a grin as she pictured Helen chasing after Chad. With a rolling pin maybe.

"If you're way behind, maybe you'll let short stuff stay the night." Helen ran a gently hand over Stephie's light brown hair. Helen seemed as content with a dozen kids as with free. Nothing fazed her.

It would solve so many problems to leave Stephie. "She's been over here way too much. I'm taking advantage of you."

Helen laughed and waved away Sonny's protest. "You know they're less work when they're together."

Stephie clutched her hands together and started jumping up and down, begging. Lila Murray, Stephie's classmate chimed in. Lila was a straggler in the Murray family, and she loved having someone her own age around.

Helen's gentle laugh rang through the riot. "We'll keep her all weekend if you said okay."

Sonny held up her hands in surrender. "I give up. Do you need a toothbrush or pajamas?"

"We've got everything she could need. Are you sure you won't come in? Without this wild one around, you might have some time to spare."

"If I have to do her chores, I'm more behind than ever."

Stephie froze in her celebration. Her eyes widened with regret. "I'll come if you need me."

Sonny regretted her teasing. Stephie's chores were simple. Sonny could do them in about five minutes, though they kept Stephie busy longer.

Sonny stepped out of the truck and gave Stephie a big hug and kissed the top of her head. "I'll be fine, sweetie. I'll pick you up in the morning. And, I'll leave time for coffee, okay Helen?" She climbed back into her Chevy without looking Helen in the eye.

"I saw you going home around two thirty. Did something happen to keep you from unloading?"

Sonny glanced at her groceries, still perched on the pickup seat. Sonny kept her head turned to avoid the question. "I just got… uh… sidetracked." Sonny waved without meeting Helen's questioning eyes, called out, "Behave yourself, Stephanie!" and backed out of the lane.

Chad was safe for tonight. What would she make him for supper? She never thought of herself as lonely, but her reaction to Chad made her wonder.

She hit the gas.

* * *

She raced through her chores as if wolves were chasing her.

Not that she was eager to see Chad again or anything.

Then she made a meat loaf, scalloped potatoes, and a corn casserole. It was simple because everything went in the oven. She dug out of the deep freeze some sliced apples and a pie crust, knowing this was solely to impress him. She put the meat loaf in to bake then added everything but the pie. After a quick shower, she reached for her prettiest sundress. "Get a grip, Sonny. This isn't a date. You barely know the man anymore… and what you do know isn't good."

Sonny forgot the dress and pulled out blue jeans and a short-sleeved sweater out of the drawer. She drew a brush through her damp hair, and then went and checked the oven, its door squeaking as the fragrant steam of cooking food escaped. In the gush of heat, Sonny rearranged the casserole dishes to make room of the pie and slid it into place.

Then she forced herself to walk, not run, up the path.

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Chad hadn't had more than a momentary flash of guilt in three hours. Way under his usual quota. He was too busy thinking about Sonny. He had to get her away from him, but before he did, he wanted one more taste of all that feminine kindness.

Despite his rudeness, he knew she'd show up with food. She hadn't lost the Sonny kindness from their teenage years. He listened for the padding of her feet, and when he heard her, he went into action.

Chad yelled, shoved the ladder leaned against the side of the house away from Sonny's path, and then lay on the ground. She dashed around the house like she knew she would. He moaned and put a hand to his head and started to sit up.

She was kneeling by him in a second. "Oh, Chad, let me see if you're all right. Lay still."

Chad relaxed back on the dirt. He groaned, trying not to overact. Sonny had always said that was his flaw. Her hands smoothed over his arms and down his legs, checking for injuries. Contentment seeped into his fully intact bones. How could such tenderness and grace be a part of his former rival?

She leaned over, her endless brown hair, unbraided, slipped over her shoulder and rained down onto his chest. His fingers itched to bury themselves in the silken length. She smelled so good—no perfume, just sunlight and fresh air and herself.

He opened his eyes and saw her fear. For him. Tears burned his eyes.

The last time he'd cried he was eight years old, the day he'd realized his mother had left for good. He'd cried one last time, and never again. No tears when he buried his father, none when he pulled tiny broken bodies out of mudslides on his show. He certainly wasn't going to start now.

"Did you land on your back? Did you hit your head?" Her hands flowed over him like warm rain. She caressed his forehead, brushed back his hair.

Her concern was too genuine, her touch to gentle. It awakened a need as real as thirst or hunger. A need he didn't know he had until now. A need so profound it scared him into action. He pushed her hands away and sat up.

"No, be careful. I think you might've lost consciousness for a minute." She pushed his shoulders back on the ground.

He found safety in hostility. "I'm fine. Back off."

She held him down. His eyes ran over the whipcord muscles in her slender arms. That was new.

"Don't fool around. You need to see a doctor. Lie still while I call an ambulance." She jumped up.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her right back down on top of him. "Knock it off, Florence Nightingale." She'd have the whole state down on him in a minute. He'd have to prove he was all right. Time for Plan B: Send her running.

He dragged her down and kissed her.

Sonny jerked back and knelt on his chest. There was nothing soft and feminine about her knees.

She dug her kneecap into a rib and he let her go. She stood as he rolled onto one elbow and grinned. "I told you I was fine. The only thing you could offer me was that sweet sympathy."

Her face flushed with anger. His plan was working.

"Come back here." He patted the ground next to him. Now she'd go away and stay away form the barbarian over the hill.

"Dinner's ready, hotshot."

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**Review please!**


	5. Chapter 5

This story is based on the book "Clueless Cowboy" by Mary Connealy.

Setting/Timeframe:

The year is 2018. Sonny is 24 years old.

'So Random' ended in 2016, and Sonny stayed in LA/Hollywood for a year. A month later, her mom died, leaving Sonny and her little sister, Stephie, as orphans. Stephie is now 8 years old. Sonny is working on her family's farm in Wisconsin, trying to support her little sister, and keep her close to her cousins. Sonny didn't want to take Stephie away form everyone she knew, so Sonny left the acting business, and took over her parents' farm.

I do not own Sonny With a Chance, nor do I own 'Clueless Cowboy', or the basic plot of this story.

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**This _is_ a Christian story. If this use of religion in a fic offends you, don't read. Please, don't flame just because you disagree with this religion. It is an important part of the book by Mary Connealy, and I believe it adds to the story. Again, if you don't like it, don't read it! **

**The religious aspect of this story is not meant to offend anyone. Also, this A/N isn't meant to offend anyone who loves God and believes in Him. I decided that it would be important to preface this chapter with this A/N to make the readers aware of the Christianity facets of this fic. **

**Please, enjoy this fic, regardless of your religious beliefs or lack thereof. **

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**THANKS TO ALL MY REVIEWERS! **

**I'm keeping the A/N above this, so, skip it if you want. Enjoy the story!**

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"You're really feeding me?" Delight wiped all his planning from his mind. Then, he remembered. "Where's your kid sister? Have you managed to keep our little secret for three whole hours?"

"My sister is staying with friends overnight."

Chad realized Sonny had no survival skills to admit something like that to a complete stranger. After all, they might as well be strangers. She knows nothing about him, not any more. He needed to teach her to be more careful. "She's gone all night? You arranged some time alone with old Chad? Good girl."

The rage on her face convinced him to stand up for his own safety.

"Do you want to eat or not?"

"I want to eat."

"I left it baking. If you have chores, you've got a few minutes before it's done. But I need to get back and turn the heat down on the pie." She started around the house.

He was beside her like a shot. "Pie? You made pie? You know how to make pie and tell time from the sun?"

"That's right." She looked sideways at him. "I'm the last of my kind. You've stumbled on to Jurassic Ranch, hotshot."

He was starting to like his nickname. "So you made me a pie? You must really be hoping to impress me."

"If I want to make an impression on you, I'll use a hammer on your skull."

"I think I can smell it." He stepped up their pace as they walked under the canopy of trees on the wooded path.

"I've always figured perfume was wasted on men. They way they like to hang around in bars, I thought essence of beer and cigarettes was the way to go." Sonny nodded like she was planning to go into business immediately.

"Are you trying to pick a scent to attract me?"

"Dream on." She walked faster. "I'm making a scientific observation. You're going to eat your dinner with the dog if you don't mind your manners."

"You know, I'm having a wild thought."

"Not another one," Sonny looked sideways at him.

"I'm thinking that I might behave. Not because I believe you'd feed me in the dog dish. I've decided that you're mostly hot air with these threats."

"Welcome to the party, Einstein. Your brain must've been runnin' wild all afternoon to figure that out." They crested the hill and headed across Sonny's slopping lawn. "I didn't have much time to get ready for company." Her chin rose. "You'll take it as it is and like it. Our house isn't a showplace like the Barretts'."

"I think your memories are about twenty years old, honey. I've been living a life a caveman would pity the last two weeks. The old Barrett 'showplace' is a dump and it doesn't interest me at all right now. If the food I smell is for real, I'll gladly fight over it with the dog." He felt confident making the offer because there was no sign of a dog anywhere.

He pulled open the wooden door of the screened porch and held it open for her. She stepped past him onto the creaking wood floorboards painted brick red. Heading quickly to the inner wooden door, she shifted around so her back was pressed to the entrance, obviously reluctant to let him in.

He'd pretty much insulted her nonstop from the moment they'd met, and she hadn't paid much attention. From her expression, he suspected offending her home might be a mistake. Chad reached around her for the doorknob and she dodged away from his arm. He swung the door open and held it as she rushed ahead of him.

Chad stepped inside and his heart skipped a beat. The appliances were ten or twenty years old. The flood was beige linoleum trying to look like ceramic tile, roughed up in spots and curling in one corner. The walls were papered with faded yellow checks. The cupboards were fifty-year-old scarred oak, with little round white knobs, a couple of them missing. A round table with a white top and tubular steel chairs were against one wall of the small room, with a doorway on each side—one leading to the bathroom, the other to the living room.

It was home. A real home. He'd never seen anything like it, and he loved it to the point of being speechless.

She moved quickly to the oven.

To cover his reaction, Chad crossed his arms and leaned against the counter nearest the door, fighting a strong desire to move in.

To further his efforts to appear cool and collected, he said, "You've really got that happy homemaker bustle down. Where's the housedress? You need something in calico, floor length, and an apron made form flour sacks."

Sonny checked whatever was in the oven. "Thanks. I thought I was acting more like June Cleaver, but you've backed me up a hundred years."

"June Cleaver, huh? Speaking of the Beaver, how'd you arrange the privacy? Drop the munchkin along the road because you were desperate to be alone with me?" He had to tease her to keep from begging to stay. He breathed in the delicious aromas.

"Stephanie was invited to stay overnight at the neighbors."

"You shouldn't admit that to me."

"Why not?" She shut the stove and grabbed silverware, letting it clatter onto the table.

"I'm a stranger. You just told me you're completely alone. That's crazy." Chad had to focus to scold her. The aroma in the kitchen was enough to make him polite.

"Oh, sorry. Maybe if you wore a sign around your neck to remind me you're dangerous."

Chad shook his head. "You have no survival skills."

"Yeah, and which one of us is starving?"

She had him there.

"She's staying with Helen and Carl Murray. They are lovely people, and you should be so lucky to have friends that nice." Sonny set salt, pepper, and napkins on the table.

Maybe he'd been born suspicious. "You told her I'm here, didn't you?"

"Relax, I didn't say a word. I promised, remember? In Wisconsin, that still means something. I agreed to protect you from Stephie for a little while longer."

"Can't you just tell her not to trespass? Don't you people know anything about private property?"

"Don't you know anything about living in the country? What are you planning to do, hide forever? Every little town around her will notice a new comer. Are you planning to drive to Rapid City every time you need milk?" Sonny turned to the oven and jabbed a fork into something.

Chad wondered if she was pretending it was him.

Since Sonny'd asked about his plans, however sarcastically, he'd decided to share his dream with her. "I'm going to live off the land." He couldn't control the pride and excitement. "I'm going to grow a garden and raise a cow and some chickens. I'm going to burn wood for fuel. I'll even make candles." His heart expanded with the longing to live close to nature. To experience health and clean air and simple food… He wasn't the CDC she remembered. He looked to her to share the beauty of it.

"Are you nuts?" She looked at him as if he'd grown a second head.

The woman had no vision. How far out in the wilderness did he have to go to find the true pioneer spirit?

"No electricity?" She pulled the meat loaf out and set it on a pot holder on the table.

Chad shook his head, waiting.

"No gas?"

"My mind's made up, and I'm hungry." He'd have been crankier if hot food hadn't been steaming in front of him.

"What have you been doing for food? No refrigerator? No stove? Are you cooking over an open fire? Eating canned stuff?"

He felt a flush climb his neck. "Well, I tried to build a fire. I did get one going…once. It takes an insane amount of time to collect firewood and light it and then, well, my cooking pan isn't right." He wanted to live off the land, not rough it by way of Cabela's and all their luxury camping equipment.

"Pan? One pan?"

There was that blasted compassion again. He wanted her to insult him so that he could yell at her. Now that was fun. Instead she started that bustling thing again, all docile fifties' homemaker, putting hot casserole dishes on the table.

It smelled so good a wave of dizziness passed over him. He nearly collapsed into a chair. He wasn't starving, exactly, but he hadn't eaten anything good for two weeks. The food and her kindness drew him like a moth to a flame.

She slapped a plate in front of him so hard he looked up to see if she was angry. She spooned his food up without setting herself a plate, like he was wasting away before her eyes.

Since she seemed worried, good manners demanded he put her mind at ease by eating. "What is all this? It smells fantastic."

"It's just plain food. Meat and potatoes and a vegetable. You must be starving if you think this is special." She piled corn beside the creamy slices of potato and a slab of steaming meat.

"It's fantastic food."

"You didn't eat this at home?" Sonny scooped again for a bit, then sank onto the chair opposite him.

"Our housekeeper made…oh, I don't know…fancy stuff." Chad wished she'd stop shaking her head and staring at him like he was an extraterrestrial.

"Didn't your mother ever cook?"

"I didn't have a mother. And whatever housekeepers Dad hired were French chef types."

"No mother?"

He'd hoped he'd skimmed over that lightly enough, but she latched right on to it. "Look, I'm not going to discuss her. She's just another predatory female as far as I'm concerned."

He saw the questions in her eyes, but Sonny was all mercy and restraint. She dropped the subject.

"Eat your supper. It was blazing hot from the oven, but it should be cool enough now." She interjected a lighter tone. "If you've never had meat loaf before, you're going to die from pleasure, so say good-bye now."

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